do not grind your own soul into the ocean for her
-that self-effacing, shallow-studded hare-
with her teeth caught on ribbons
& her mouth stitched close with sparks & hurricanes
as constant escaping prisoners.
do not grind your own skull into the ocean for her,
i know your head must swim of hearts caught
on fish-hooks
& her ink drowning in your fingertips,
you can't let yourself hurt under her false silver knives.
with our sore tongues & sore thoughts
tumbling above us, becoming stars in our chests,
I'll
remember
you
always,

sour sweet boy.